


crimson and clover, over and over

by sultrygoblin



Category: Maleficent (Disney Movies)
Genre: F/M, First Time, Fluff and Smut, Loss of Virginity, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-24
Updated: 2020-03-24
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:21:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23291644
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sultrygoblin/pseuds/sultrygoblin
Summary: one shot- request -“Hey, I don’t know if you do smut but if you do it, could you write a Diaval x reader smut were she’s a virgin and he’s gentle and sweet? If not, then maybe something like that just without the smut and just fluff instead."- Lucasta and Diaval take another, and very intimate step, in their relationship.
Relationships: Diaval (Disney)/Original Female Character(s)
Kudos: 27





	crimson and clover, over and over

**Author's Note:**

> well guys, i have alluded to smut but here it is. some smut, i am back on the smut train so hopefully there is more to come. i hope you like it. it’s not EXACTLY what you asked for but i’m pretty damn proud if do say so myself and i do.

It occurred to Diaval one day that in order for their relationship to continue any farther intimately it would have to be done as humans. It was shameful of him to admit but he had spied once or twice on a few couples. Nothing obscene but more than enough to understand more than the basics. Lucasta had no real context except for instinct. Which while useful was not the best at communicating clear information. It hadn't really mattered the first time it crossed his mind as he watched her play in the stream unaware of the waters effect on her light colored dress or on her newfound partner. Nor the second time, when she'd pressed a little to hard with her kiss, her hands a little to eager in his hair. There was a tightening in his trousers brought on by a small noise on her part. It turned into a squeak and she ran out of sight as a scared rabbit is want to do. But the third time, this time. It mattered. For both of them. He had tried to spend what time he could gathering information about how they were supposed to take the next step in bodies neither were born with and would never truly master in their entirety. Somewhere between shameful peeking, eaves dropping, and pursuing a few books that made his cheeks tint red he felt almost confident. That is until the third time happened, the time that mattered, and he realized that while he was now a learned man on the subject of coupling and lust, it was unlikely Lucasta had coincidentally been doing the same thing. All this crossed his mind in the seconds between when he felt her body press into his and his back collide with the ground.

Lucasta didn't always know her own strength, especially when you added speed to the mix. And she had found this to be her favorite way of surprising him, if only so she could find herself pressed up against him completely for a moment. He always smelt of rain and it made her want to rub her nose across his entire body if only to have it memorized completely. It made her spine shake and her skin tingle. She always thought he must feel it too, there was no way he couldn't feel the buzzing when they were pressed so close together. But if he did, he was very good at hiding it. Seeming more perturbed when he could finally give her his attention than needy. At least those were the words she had once heard her mistress use when she thought she couldn't hear her.

“I ought not be surprised. At this point it's starting to become my own fault,” he chuckled, swallowing hard at the feeling of her thighs tight around his hips and her face pressed into the curve between his neck and shoulder.

He managed not to gulp but he couldn't stop his breath from shaking and a familiar yet still very new stirring from down below, “I'm sorry,” it was a shot through him when her lips brushed the sensitive skin of his neck and it took everything in him not to cry out.

“I'm not,” threading his fingers carefully through her hair and pulling gently.

It made her scalp tingle and filled her body with heat, she couldn't help but follow if only to prolong the sensation, “I just missed you is all,” the words breathy, made out of a sigh.

He must look just as far away, their words seeming to be built in responses with no real intent behind them. She did have some understanding, he kept reminding himself not to underestimate her and still found himself constantly doing so.

“You alright, dinner?” he couldn't keep the teasing from his voice, watching her eyes drift open slowly.

“More than alright I believe,” there's something mischievous in her eyes and he wonders if perhaps he has severely miscalculated who will be leading this situation, “It's bound to feel different, right? Since our outsides don't match our insides anymore,” running her finger along the deep V of his ebony blouse, “I am not entirely naive, birdy.”

His hands traced the plunging back of her dress, the greens and browns hiding only her most intimate parts and somehow making her seem even more salacious, “I seem to keep forgetting that. Though perhaps I am simply weak,” across the slim curves of her alabaster waist, pinkies straying to trace webbing blues, “Yes. I'm quite sure it's the second.”

“I wouldn't go that far,” he could feel the lightest pressure where they're pelvises joined, one that only added to his issues as he felt himself becoming more aroused than he had planned on, “You must certainly have other talents,” her hands dug into the dirt above his shoulder, her body suddenly pressed forward and over his, “Is that where you've been?” it isn't sultry, the apples of her cheeks red and her lips split into a grin.

“I have,” he confessed, both unable to keep secrets from her any longer and unable to lie to her, “I didn't think either of us would know what exactly to do with these bodies. As our outsides don't match our insides,” he couldn't help the cheeky smirk.

It would be both of their undoing.

Maybe it was the curve of his lips or his voice, it simply could have been the memory of how he had tasted but suddenly she needed him again. More than sunlight, more than air, she needed Diaval. She followed that urge, she had never done anything else before and now was not the time to start. There was no going back, for either of them. He sat up suddenly, hands scrambling to yank the straps of her dress down as she seemed to devour him whole, not unlike he might've done to her once. Her nails dragged along the sensitive flesh of his hip, making him shiver, as her fingers scrambled to yank the fabric she seemed personally offended by off his body.

Only when their lips had parted for him to yank off the shirt, eyes watching the flushed skin of her exposed breasts rise and fall with panted breaths. This wasn't exactly how he had planned, he had at least thought there would be a bed. Or less of a risk of being stumbled upon. But somehow it feels so...her. He wants that for her, he wants to lose himself in it. He leans forward as if to kiss her lips, he watches her hold her breath in anticipation and instead drops a bit lower to run his lips along the curve of her jaw, which came with it's own special sound. Something between a growl and keen that only she would be capable of. Her fingers scramble much as they had at the laces of his trousers much as they had for his shirt but he would not allow her this victory.

“It doesn't have to be like that,” his lips brushing against the column of her throat, pulling her even tighter against him, “Not with us.”

She trembles, not quite sure what she wants but she nods, allowing herself to feel and explore that which she had ignored for the familiar feeling of instinct. How his hands felt rough but held her with such softness, the two of them seeming to span the entire expanse of her back. Or perhaps that was because he simply felt ingrained in her entire being. Velvet, plump lips traveled lower, over the arch of her collar bone, leaning her back ever so slightly so her back arched as he ducked lower and lower till he could nip at the valley between her breasts.

He felt her entire body tense, waiting for his next move as he lead her in a dance he barely knew himself. He thought of that book, with it's lascivious illustrations and impossible seeming acts that he read in that library under the cloak of night. Trying to use his mind when it was almost too far gone. But he had it for now. The tip of his nose trace the heavy curve of first one bosom, then the other. She clung to him, nails digging into his rib cage in a way that made him gasp and hips buck ever so slightly. He was growing and soon, quite, quite soon, she would be very aware of that fact. She after all, wasn't _that_ naive as he had discovered. His eyes shot upward, meeting her own as he moved ever so slightly upward. The nub, as that what it had been called upon his reading, there seemed to be many numbs, was peaked and seeming to strain towards him. The dusty pink such a contrast to the translucence of the rest of her. Just like her lips. Just like other parts of her must be. It sent another jolt and he knew she must feel him. Her raised eyebrow made that all too clear and he distracted her by tugging it lightly between his teeth.

She cried out, hips moving forward and back against him in a way that made them both repeat the sound. He would not be distracted, with what little thought he found himself still able to muster he sucked it between his lips. This time a shriek, one that no one could mistake it's intent, ripped from her body as she lurched against. How he managed to hold her even slightly still she'd never know, but it sent her hips forward again. Some part of him was pressed against her womanhood, one it had taken her far to long to understand but once she had never ceased to be amazed at it's intricacies. The hardness of him and friction of the fabric between them pushed against that bundle of nerves she'd explored more than a few times in her most private moments. This was better, this was indescribable.

“You deserve,” he pants against her flesh, what? What does she deserve? Better? More? He doesn't know, he just knows it's something he can't give her right now.

“You,” running her hands up the scarred planes of his torso to hold his face in her hands, “Whatever that is.”

It's his turn, he's over her in an instant, he's is sure this time he's devouring her like he was meant to do, except for her moan that vibrated between them. One hand presses into the tall grass, supporting his weight while that other yanked her unnecessarily skirt up till the whole thing was more of a flowing belt around her waist. He hasn't seen her completely nude since that first moment she came to them and after it all he would revel in it, Memorizing every curve with his eyes, hands, and lips for when he was unable too. But this was not the moment for it. This was something else, something that neither could explain but seemed older than time. One leg manages to curl around his hip when the other tries he doesn't let it, holding it down just the barest with his thigh and leaving her spread.

When his fingers dip between her lower lips, her head falls back, the silver of her hair a crown about her head as her crystalline eyes close, lost in the sensation. Lost in him. His thumb works against the second, and now most enjoyable, nub he had read about. The pad against it, light, working in slow circles. Her hips begin to undulate with his movements, something beyond her control, aching to feel more. Anything more. He watches her face, feels her breathing, a small smile twisting his lips when he gently slid a finger into her, drenched and wanting. He no longer wondered how he was supposed to fit inside someone so small. He could feel her stretch and twitch to make room for the digit, somehow managing to grow wetter at the sensation. She makes all manner of noises he never expected of her as he began to move in and out, in and out, his thumb never stopping.

Something is building inside of her, something she had chased once or twice in those few moments of exploration and had never been able to grasp. Her hands are limp above her head, fingers grasping at hair and grass alike between bent knuckles. She feels tight, somehow growing tighter and tighter, every muscle straining and taught, her back beginning to arch at an angle she might've once thought impossible and then...stars. As if her entire body had exploded with them from her head to her toe. She thrashes and clings to him, unable to do much else as babbled sounds came from her if only to help provide some sort of release.

“You're so beautiful,” he whispers, slowing his movements but never stopping as he added another finger, leaning back to yank the ties of his trousers and ripping them instead, “Do you know that?”

She moans, a staccato sound that makes clear she is incapable of thoughts that don't revolve around him and the pleasure surging through them. It strikes him how strange it is, finally having the upper hand over her and almost wishing he didn't. If she knew what to do she would _know what to do_. He was following her noises, hoping for worded responses and receiving something better but not help.

“Stop,” she's breathless, humming after the word, trying to connect her thoughts, taking his face in her hands, “Come back.”

He should be comforting her, it would hurt, he knew that. He's sure somewhere inside she knows it too. But it never goes that way, moves slowly. Pulling his hands from her completely which caused her to squeal with frustration at the emptiness, he pressed a kiss to her lips. Softer and gentler than he had given her before, even their first. The wind blows, cooling his sweat slicked skin, and he pushes forward.

He's never felt anything like it. Human or raven, nothing he'd ever experienced had prepared him for being with Lucasta for the first time. He tries, he really does, but he can't help himself. Sinking into her completely with a moan more akin to monster than man. If she feels pain, it doesn't show, unable to cope with the his stopped movements as he reveled in the sensation of her. That other leg swung around him quickly and her hips began to roll. It's a flurry of sensation. They move against each other, seeming to be one undulated entity. They rolled about the grass, more animal than either had been in a long time. Somewhere, somehow, they shed the fabrics that desperately tried to cling and protect their modesty. There was none left to protect.

She's let out that beautiful noise, her insides clinging to him in a way he thought impossible, for the fourth if fifth time when he began to feel the sensation she must feel. When her eyes began to close, her body began to curve, his muscles began to tense much as hers had. And she did not miss it just as he had not, pulling him over her, so he could have his way. Wanting him to reach that same peak she had, knowing each other inside and out in a way beyond words. More than that, she needed him to find it, if only to feel what she so wished she could make him as he did her but had no words as beautiful as his to offer. His hips snap back and forth, the obscene of flesh against stickier flesh filled the barely private clearing, it stopped. A beat of silence as his eyes closed and his body arched in that all too familiar way and a roar neither thought him capable of erupted from his throat. His hips ground against hers hard, once, twice, three times, before he exhaled deeply and collapsed beside her.

She stared up at the sky that had been clear and blue, the sun just passed noon when she had first began to stalk him through The Moors and now was purple that bled into the night in one direction and the pink of the setting sun in the other. The idea of catching her breath seems impossible but after a few gulps of the cool air, it becomes easier and easier. She turns her head, watching him follow the same steps she had just a few seconds behind. She's sure the fireworks had taken a moment to come down from and his gaze meets hers.

“I think they got it much better than us in this department,” it's the only thing she can think to say.

His laugh is a deep, belly laugh. The same kind he used to give when she'd said something that meant quite another thing without meaning it. For a moment, Lucasta thought that might be the case as well. He sits up in his elbow slowly, holding her face in his hand.

“I love you so much, you know that right?” she nodded, “Good,” he pressed a hard kiss to her forehead before collapsing back in the grass.


End file.
